


love poem

by nanamilks



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Barebacking, Bottom Lee Minho | Lee Know, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Dacryphilia, Established Relationship, First Time, Frottage, Happy Ending, Kissing, Knight Bang Chan, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Prince Lee Minho | Lee Know, Rimming, Top Bang Chan, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:40:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28331031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanamilks/pseuds/nanamilks
Summary: "Hi, my love," Chan lifts a hand to wipe beneath Minho's eyes, then presses a soft kiss to both of his eyelids. He trails his way back to Minho's lips, much softer this time but still brimming with love that Minho to this day can't believe is his. “I promised you I’d be back.”(or: lee minho, crown prince of levanter, feels as though he's been waiting an eternity for his lover to return from war.)
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 31
Kudos: 335





	love poem

**Author's Note:**

> a while ago, i ran a few polls on my twitter allowing my followers to pick the details of a follower gift fic. this is a product of that, and just in time for christmas! thank you so much for supporting me, wanting to read my work, and making every day so enjoyable knowing i have someone to share my love of writing with. i hope this fic is everything you wanted. thank you infinitely ♡
> 
> named after the iu song i cried to for hours on end while writing this~

Minho runs his finger along the edge of the page and over the folded corner, dogeared by someone long before him or even someone before them. The soft paper feels fragile in his grasp and he's careful not to rip it each time he turns a page, eyes flitting across the faded ink. Here by the window, the afternoon sun washes him and his book in an amber glaze and sometimes Minho has to squint or put his hand over his eyes, but he doesn't dare leave.

What's always been his favorite spot to read has become a favorite spot to keep watch as of late, offering a wide view of the castle grounds and beyond where the road winds off toward one of Levanter's villages. He can see the meadows on the outskirts and the river that cuts through the kingdom, the evergreen cascade of forest that separates this land from others unlike it. When Minho's released from study or his mother dismisses him from their extensive talks about life and his future and nothing at all, he always ends up right back here, curled up on the windowsill with his head against the glass. He's made it through countless books in the last three months and hopes that he won't have to begin another just to keep passing the time.

He's halfway through a new page when a faint sound strikes him, far away yet so long anticipated that it rings in Minho's ears as if it's right beside him. He looks up from his book and into the distance, squinting at the point just beyond his sight where the road curves behind a barrier of blossom trees and obscures who or whatever is coming. The guards stationed there stand to attention rather than defense and Minho perks up, setting his book down and scrambling to his knees so he can press his hands to the glass and look closer. He hopes to god it's not just another delivery.

The first set of horses rounds the corner and Minho studies each face, immediately recognizing them as his father's soldiers, and Minho's heart falls into his stomach. He presses the pads of his fingers harder against the glass as if trying to break it, like he might materialize right through it and be down there to greet them like the guards get to. Two or three more lines of men in armor and their horses roll in before Minho's father appears in the middle of it all, salt-and-pepper hair and sunkissed skin beneath years and years of stress only amplified by the battle he's returned from. Minho's eyes linger on the king for only a moment — by his side is a face much younger, riddled by scrapes and bruises that become more apparent the closer the troops get. Minho doesn't breathe.

He's on his feet in an instant, grabbing his boots and pulling them on in a hurry that has him tripping over his feet and holding onto his bedpost for support. He doesn't bother grabbing his robe but he does spare a look in the mirror opposite the foot of his bed, fixing his hair and straightening out the silk of his shirt, the lace cuffs of his sleeves. Should he get one of his attendants to help him with some makeup? He's rubbing some rose-colored balm into his lips when the doors to his bedroom swing open and Felix appears, out of breath as though he'd been running.

"I'm so sorry I didn't knock, your highness, but it's important! You— your father and his soldiers have returned," the servant can barely catch his breath, slipping into the room and grabbing Minho's robe to help him dress faster. "The knights! The knights are back, my prince, he's—"

Minho thinks to goad him about the countless times he's told him he can just call him by his name, but he doesn't have the time. He allows the younger to help him shrug on the velvet duster and then he's out the door, calling his thanks to Felix for letting him know. Minho runs down halls, takes two steps at a time down each staircase, and almost knocks over several members of the castle staff before he makes it to the bailey where everyone is already gathered and hollering. He's ushered to the front where he can stand beside the queen, his mother taking one of his hands in hers.

So many sleepless weeks spent reassuring each other that they would be back, that his father would return and all of the knights too, has led to this. Minho shares a bright smile with her, all teeth and gums and wide eyes, and laces their fingers together as they watch the horses come through the gatehouse, led and flanked by more guards. He lifts their entwined hands in a cheer since it's keeping them from clapping like everyone else, and when Chan sees him, Minho's entire world bursts into starlight.

He's as handsome as he's ever been even though he's a little beat up, mussed dark hair across his forehead and bags beneath his big brown eyes, but he’s more blinding than the sun behind him. His bow and arrow are hanging on his back, sword in its holster at his side, and the sight of them never fails to make Minho shudder.

The troop comes to a halt and the king dismounts, allowing the court to cry and celebrate before he directs their silence. He begins talking, surely his usual spiel about how tough the battle was and how grateful he is for his men, but Minho can't be bothered. He can't take his eyes off of Chan.

Although Chan is trying to remain stone-faced and professional up there beside Minho's father, his eyes flit to the crown prince every handful of words and he tries his hardest not to smile judging by the way his dimples keep pressing into his cheeks. Minho bites down on his lips to keep the smile off his own face so that he won't keep distracting Chan, but when their eyes meet again, he cocks his head backward the slightest bit in a gesture that Chan understands. The knight can't nod his approval but he does wink, sending a shot right through Minho's heart.

The soldiers and most of the court are dismissed before Minho is; he's not surprised that his father wants to discuss war and land and whatever the hell after returning from some territory Minho's forgotten the name of, but he can only hope he keeps it short. He joins the king and his officials in his cabinet and sits in his usual seat, tapping his foot on the hardwood and offering hurried responses to his father's words. 

"I'm happy you made it back, dad," Minho says sincerely when their meeting comes to a close, offering him a deep bow and a hug. "You've done well."

And then he's off again.

It's a short run to the southwestern tower where they've had so many meetings before, an alcove three floors up with windows on three sides made of intricate cutouts in the paneling that covers the wall. The setting sun pours through the shapes and casts reflections of them on the stone floor and across Chan's body where he stands with his back to Minho. The prince's footsteps come to a halt in the doorway and he's breathless because Chan's _right there_ , not miles and miles away, not just a dream at night when Minho lies his head on his pillow. He can't keep his eyes from watering.

Chan turns around after a second far too long for Minho's liking, either because he was trying to steel his own racing heart or because he wants to be a tease. The smile that spreads across his face is instant and brilliant, turning his eyes to crescent moons and carving deep dimples into his cheeks. He opens his arms for Minho and Minho darts toward him, jumping into his waiting embrace with his arms and legs wrapped tightly around him.

The impact makes Chan stumble a little, but he holds Minho securely and spins him around, round and round until they're giggling. When Chan sets Minho on his feet, the younger looks up at him with wet, red-rimmed eyes, cupping his face with both hands just before he leans in to press an ardent kiss to his mouth. It's full of all the _I love yous_ , the _I miss yous,_ the _please be safes_ that he couldn't tell him over the last two months. Chan kisses back just as hard.

"Hi," Minho says when they part to breathe, smiling so brightly it makes his face hurt. Chan holds him by the lower back, keeping him held close enough that Minho could almost feel Chan's heart hammering against his chest if he tried hard enough.

"Hi, my love," Chan lifts a hand to wipe beneath Minho's eyes, then presses a soft kiss to both of his eyelids. He trails his way back to Minho's lips, much softer this time but still brimming with love that Minho to this day can't believe is his. “I promised you I’d be back.”

When they pull apart again, Minho gently runs his fingers over Chan's face, the bruise on his cheek, the scab on his jaw, the cut on his upper lip. He frowns at the sight of them, and the thought of Chan getting hurt, even though he gets hurt nearly every day when he’s training for battle and from his own general clumsiness.

"I'm okay," Chan assures, voice no louder than a whisper. He rests his hand on top of Minho's as he's thumbing over his bruised cheekbone with a featherlight touch. "Never better."

"God, I was so worried. I'm always so worried," Minho runs his fingers through Chan's hair and exposes a scrape he didn't see before, making him frown harder. "Why couldn't you have been a jeweler or something? A farmer?"

Chan laughs, and it's the sweetest sound Minho's heard in a long time. He laughs, too, but smacks Chan in the chest. "I'm serious!"

"No you're not," Chan rests his forehead against his lover's and murmurs, "you like seeing me with a sword too much."

Minho accepts a playful kiss but smacks Chan again because he doesn't have an argument for that. He rests his arms over Chan's shoulders, keen to spend another moment just looking at him, gazing fondly upon him until Chan starts to get shy, smiling and looking away so that maybe Minho won't see the bloom of color creeping onto his face. Minho presses a kiss to one of his flushed cheeks, only making Chan more bashful.

He wants to ask Chan all about his travels, but he knows that he doesn't much like talking about it, especially so soon after battle. Judging by how fresh his scrapes and scratches look, he figures that he'd been fighting as recently as a couple of days ago, and won't be too eager to discuss all of the gory details of their triumph that Minho loves to listen to just yet. He'll make sure to ask him about it later, once he's rested, fed, and more comfortable than Minho imagines he's been in a long time.

For now, he opts for getting Chan as marinated in affection as he can to make up for time lost. He offers soft affirmations about how much he loves him, how he's even more handsome since the last time he saw him, how he saw him in every cloud, flower, drop of rain on his window. Anything and everything to convey how much Minho longed for him and how happy he is to have him here now, the knight making himself small in Minho's arms because he can never handle such praise. Minho loves him so _much_.

The bell tower chimes to signal the top of a new hour, and the once golden sun seeping into the room has grown pale to precede the night. Minho's mouth is a swollen cherry red by the time he and Chan pull apart from the slow, deliberate kisses they've gotten lost in, and he knows he's in for a round of teasing from his attendants when they see the state of him. Can they blame him?

"You should go," Chan murmurs, his own lips just as bruised and well-loved. The last thing Minho wants to do now is go. "They're probably looking everywhere for you."

Minho sighs but nods in agreement, sure that his mother is close to a fit because her son is nowhere to be found and the obligatory post-victory feast arranged for her husband will begin soon. Surely she knows what he's up to, but luckily they've been able to keep this little cove a secret so that she can't send someone here to fetch him. "You get a bit of rest, okay? I don't plan on letting you get much after dinner." The catlike smirk that follows gets Chan whining in coyness one last time.

They part with one last peck and lingering hands, Minho heading in one direction toward his quarters and Chan going another to nap and have a bath in the knights' manor. The giddy sensation in Minho's tummy feels all too familiar, reminiscent of a first kiss, first touch, first _I love you_ so many years ago.

The grand hall is full with castle staff, the king's court, lords and ladies and villagers the king respects more than others. It is loud with music and bright with candlelight, and all of the garish jewelry and sparkling makeup upon each guest makes Minho squint as he looks over the room. He's seated to his father's right and Minho’s a little too tipsy on honey wine to properly follow whatever he's going on about. Minho assumes he's describing all of the battle scenes he and his knights have faced in the past months, or he's thanking everyone for fighting hard and being supportive, or maybe he's at the part in his speeches where he starts kissing his own ass as subtly as possible — Minho has lost track.

It's not that he doesn't care, because he cares more than he's even willing to think about most days, knowing that this is his future. One day he'll be the one leading the expeditions and wars and he's terrified for it. He typically holds each one of his father's words with high regard, storing them to mull over later in the night until he drives himself crazy. But he feels so sated from the wine and the big meal that he can't really focus, and his crown feels heavy and uncomfortable on his head because he hasn't worn it in a while. The gems around his eyes feel funny when he blinks, too, so he's a little distracted.

And Chan's there. That's entrancing enough for a sober Minho, let alone a buzzed one.

Chan who keeps making eyes at him from across the room, trying to make Minho smile with his stupid facial expressions that he can't restrain himself from because he's had just as much to drink. Minho's shoulders tremble slightly with the giggle that so badly wants to slip out, but he straightens up when he feels his mother pinch him on the back. The same warning he'd always get as a child unable to behave himself before the court. Some things never change.

The king ends his address with a wish for everyone to continue to eat and be merry. The crown prince gets up from the table and takes off his crown, handing it to his attendant and telling them that he's going to the washroom. When they offer to escort him he lifts a dismissive hand, declaring that he's a big boy before setting off on his own. He squeezes through guests that part and bow respectfully to him, nodding his head to each of them on his way past, until he gets to a certain knight hanging out with the other knights at their designated table. He slips up behind him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Sir Chan," he whispers into his ear, his warm breath making Chan shiver. "Your presence is requested in the prince's chambers at once."

And then Minho leaves, knowing fully well that Chan's near to death under his brotherhood's teasing and curious prodding after that interaction. He leaves the hall with a pleased simper on his face, bowing his thanks to the guards that hold the doors open for him, and starts down the corridor. Just as he's about to round the far corner, he hears footsteps trailing behind him. Minho turns around to see Chan picking up a leisurely jog after him and, with all of the mischief in the world in his smile, Minho takes off running away.

His mother would have their asses if she knew they were running through the castle like this, screaming and laughing like the rambunctious kids they used to be that got in trouble nearly every day for the same "devilry" as she always called it. Minho nearly barrels into one of the guards standing outside of his bedroom and dismisses them in a fit of giggles. He pulls one of the doors open, waiting for Chan to catch up to him so he can grab his hand and pull him inside. When Chan closes the door behind them, Minho takes him by the collar and pushes him up against it so he can lick the taste of honey out of his mouth.

They aren’t entirely new to this feeling of pure desire. They haven't done _much_ to this point, getting by on making out and hands in each other's pants and humping each other like bunnies until those pants are soiled. They've been fooling around since they were teenagers, and Minho knows all too well the signs that they're about to; Chan pushing his crotch up against his and sucking at his neck are so promising. But Minho has nervous butterflies in the pit of his tummy as though he's never had Chan like this, because he wants this time to be different. He wants to do more, take more, give Chan more. He knew, having thought about it countless times while he awaited Chan's return, that he wanted to intertwine himself even more deeply with him. Imprint some more of his own soul onto his.

But he has no idea how to ask. Leave it to Chan to turn the tables and make him the shy one.

"My beautiful boy," the knight says, cupping his lover's jaw and clumsily bumping their noses together as he goes in for another kiss. "I've missed you so much. Not a moment goes by that I'm not... completely consumed by the thought of you."

Minho gazes back at him with wet eyes and then kisses him impossibly harder, like his heart might seep out into it and Chan might swallow it whole. It's his, anyway.

Chan sweeps Minho into his arms and carries him to the bed, setting him down carefully and allowing himself to be pulled down onto him, knee slotted between Minho's legs and hands on either side of him to hold himself up. Minho runs his fingers along the soft fabric of Chan's loose, black top, slipping beneath the hem so he can feel the hard lines of his stomach. He moans softly, eliciting a little chuckle from Chan, and rolls them over so that he can be on top.

"I'm so proud of you." Minho's words tickle Chan's skin as he starts trailing kisses down his body, spreading them along his neck, his chest, pushing his shirt up so he can litter them around his torso. He reaches the waistband of Chan's pants and unlaces the string closure so he can tug them down his thighs just enough to get to what he wants. He looks up at Chan who's looking back at him with weighted lids, one of his arms propped beneath his head while his other hand comes down to comb through Minho's hair. "Do you know that?"

Chan nods. "I do know, my prince."

Minho brushes his lips along his hip bones, nips teasingly at the skin on his upper thighs. "You are so incredible, Chan. So brave, yeah? You serve your king so well. You serve Levanter so well." He gets closer to what Chan's waiting for, breath billowing over his shaft. "Levanter's gift."

He can tell that he wants to whine or disagree, but he's already starting to get so worked up under Minho's attention that he can't put up a fight. That doesn't keep his skin from flushing rose from his collar bones to his face. Minho grins softly, presses one more kiss to his thigh, and then takes Chan's hard length into his mouth.

Minho doesn't necessarily think he's very good at giving head, not compared to Chan, but Chan has never complained. Not that he would even if he was bad at it, sweetheart that he is, but the full body responses he gets out of him are so deliciously reassuring that Minho thinks he wouldn't mind doing this all day if given the chance. Chan arches his back, throws his head against the pillow, furrows his brows and groans Minho's name like he's being given all the pleasure in the world even though the blowjob is probably too wet and inexperienced despite how many times they've done this. Minho is just doing his best and that's always been enough for Chan.

He pulls off to breathe now and then and works Chan's cock with his hand while he does. "Do you like it, my love?" He swirls his tongue around the head and suckles on it, making Chan groan louder. He pushes his head all the way down, gagging rather obscenely but persevering regardless of how much his eyes water. Chan grips his hair tighter and Minho pulls off again, drooling as he tries to catch his breath.

"I want you to have me tonight, sweetheart," he rasps, "Want to serve _you_. I've missed you so much."

It's obvious that Chan is going to climax when he starts panting and can't keep his hips from trying to buck up for more. He warns him with a high moan of Minho's name and the prince keeps sucking until he's spilling into his mouth, hot and a little bitter. Minho has some difficulty swallowing it as he often does, but when he gets it down he proudly opens his mouth with his tongue out to show Chan.

Chan guides him up with a finger beneath his chin so they can kiss some more, truly unable to keep away for too long. The older man sits up, Minho seated in his lap, and takes his time lapping the taste of himself from Minho's mouth while they finally get each other undressed. Soon, a naked Minho is grinding down against an equally naked Chan with his hands holding onto his shoulders, moonlight illuminating their skin from one side and golden candlelight washing over them from the other. Chan guides Minho's lithe hips, controlling the speed and weight of them, looking up at his boy like he's the most ethereal thing he's ever seen in his life.

"You're so beautiful," he has to say. "So god damn gorgeous. I can't believe you're mine."

They moan almost in sync as Chan makes Minho rock faster, Chan's own cock almost fully flushed again. Minho wraps his arms tightly around Chan's neck and tells him that he's close. "O-oh, Chan, _Chan_ , please—"

As if that was his cue, Chan slows Minho's hips down to a stop and Minho gasps at the audacity. Chan kisses him quiet before he can even start griping, flipping them over once more to lie Minho on his back in the silk sheets.

"Don't come yet, angel. Not yet."

That's hardly fair considering that Minho just choked down Chan's children a few minutes ago. He's about to open his mouth to whine but Chan stuffs two of his fingers in, grinning wickedly as Minho sputters around them in surprise but promptly begins sucking on them while Chan begins slinking down his bare body.

Minho closes his eyes and tries to predict where Chan's kisses are going to end up next. He feels one on his chest just before Chan spends a long moment sucking on one of his nipples, then a kiss in the center of his chest, then the same treatment for the other nipple. One on his sternum and two at the bottom of his ribcage. A ring of them around his belly button and constellations on each thigh. He understands, as Chan nears his painfully hard cock, why Chan was getting so worked up from the same reception earlier. He takes his time marking him up with love bites so Minho's body can calm down from his almost-orgasm. When he ghosts past his throbbing core, Minho thinks to bite his fingers. But his next kiss changes his mind.

Chan's breath hits Minho's hole before his lips do, and Minho's back arches high at the unexpected contact. There are a lot of things they haven't done, and this is one that Minho has never really thought about, but now that it's about to happen, he wants it more than anything ever. He'd love to know where the hell he got this idea from — so he can thank them. He gasps when the tip of Chan's tongue traces the ring of muscle and cries out his name, his legs already starting to tremble.

It's too much so quickly, Minho writhing and wailing as Chan sucks at his rim and pushes his tongue inside of him. Chan's got him so wet with his spit and so, _so_ sensitive. When he turns his head to sob into the pillow, he's not sure if the wetness on it is tears or drool.

"Chan! Holy sh—" Minho squeezes Chan's hands, their fingers laced together on Minho's stomach. He curls his toes tightly and sniffles, rolling his hips down to meet the thrusts of Chan's tongue. "Want... want your fingers, sweetheart, please..."

Chan makes him wait agonizing seconds before he lets go of one of his hands and works a finger in alongside his tongue. He works another in after long and scissors them apart, licking him open and searching for the sweet spot with the pads of his fingers. Minho reaches for anything with his newly free hand; he tugs on Chan's hair, pulls at the sheets, covers his face. He doesn't touch his cock, though — Chan never said that he could.

" _Fuckfuckfuck_ , yes, oh my god," Minho moans loud enough for the guards outside of his quarters to hear. He bucks his hips gracelessly and Chan lets him, the knight peering up from between his legs to watch his lover fall to pieces. "M-make me come, sir, _please_!"

"But I'm not done with you yet, darling." Chan's voice is deep when he speaks, and that in and of itself might make Minho tip over the edge.

He shakes his head desperately. "It's okay, that's okay, d-do whatever you want to me afterward I... it feels so good, Chan, _fuck_." He keeps babbling and with a few more flicks of Chan's tongue, before the knight has the chance to pull away and stop him in his tracks, Minho is suddenly coming with a violent shiver. He moans so loudly that it's more like a scream, and his body dissolves into a heap of star fragments atop the bed.

When he recovers, there's a puddle of cooling semen on his belly and a shocked Chan looking up at him, eyes wide but still so fond. Minho realizes what he's done and his eyes well up immediately with guilty tears, shaking his head more desperately than before and grasping for Chan. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, sir, I'm s-sorry, I'm so sorry..."

Chan comes up to meet him in a heartbeat, cupping his cheeks and kissing his face all over. "No, no, no, angel, why are you sorry? Don't be sorry. It's okay," he leans his forehead against Minho's, "it must have been overwhelming, yeah? You were so good. You did so well, my gorgeous boy. Did it feel good?"

Minho snivels and nods minutely, still embarrassed and apologetic in how he kisses back, how he grips Chan's wrists like he's afraid he's going to go away. Like, if this is a dream and he's just messed it up, he's about to wake up and realize that Chan is still gone. That he never came back.

But Chan _is_ here and he's real, cradling Minho's body close to his as he calms him down with soft praise and sweet, gentle touches. It's always been so easy for him to bring Minho back to earth, in situations like this and vastly different where reassurance and love were the only thing he needed and Chan was the only one that knew exactly how to deliver it. He remembers in that moment that this is the same Chan that it's always been, since they were just little boys with two very different upbringings and futures but somehow still having a firm understanding of each other.

Now, looking up at Chan with shining eyes and a rapidly-thumping heart, Minho doesn't think he's ever felt so in love. He can't imagine his life without this man in it and that's what makes everything so hard. But he knows he doesn't have to think about that right now, because Chan isn't going anywhere. It's them right now, and them only. The rest of the universe may as well disappear.

"I want you," Minho whispers, wrapping his legs around Chan's waist. "I want you to take me. I'm ready."

The last time they'd talked about going all the way was a little while before Chan left for war, and the memory of it was the reason Minho had thought about it so much while he was gone. There were things to consider, of course: neither of them had any experience so it would likely be pretty clumsy; they wanted to plan it out and make it as romantic as possible; god forbid what might happen if the queen found out her son had had sex before marriage.

But this moment feels too right. The impassioned look in Chan's eyes says that he feels the same way. "Are you sure?" he asks, because, of course he does. Minho could be lying here with his legs wide open for him and he'd still ask — oh. That's exactly what he's doing.

"Of course I'm sure," Minho says, thumbing over a scratch on Chan's cheek that looks to be in much better shape since he'd gotten cleaned up today. The vulnerability in Chan's gaze is a mirror of his own. "I've never been so sure about someone in my entire life."

When Chan is slicked with oil and gradually pushing into Minho, their eyes are locked and so are their fingers, laced together beside Minho's head. As Chan inches closer to being fully engulfed, Minho has to squeeze his eyes shut as the acute pain makes him wince. Chan moves even slower and nuzzles Minho's hickey-riddled neck, a soothing gesture.

"I love you," Minho gasps, starting to cry for the millionth time tonight. Chan finally gets the entirety of his cock inside of him and stays still on top of him, giving him as much time as he needs to adjust. Minho holds his hands tight enough to hurt.

"I love _you_ ," Chan replies with his breath on the lobe of Minho's ear. "I love you more than anything in this world."

Minho eventually gives him the go ahead and Chan slides out about halfway so he can push back in, setting a languid and steady pace. They both sigh with each movement, such a new and indescribable sensation that nothing could have prepared either of them for. Minho feels full to bursting, and with how tightly he's clenching down on him, he can only imagine how tight it must feel for Chan. The broken, breathless sounds that leave him make Minho want more. All of him.

"Go faster, love, y-you can go faster," he encourages with his limbs wrapped securely around him. Chan shifts onto his knees but keeps his upper half pinned to Minho's, resting on his elbows on either side of him. Mino can't keep quiet, crying out when Chan proceeds with faster thrusts. As Chan picks up the pace even more until it’s quick and almost unbearable, Minho gets even louder. Chan's not much quieter.

Minho drags his nails up and down Chan’s back and grips his biceps, leaving tender, pink lines and crescent-shaped indents in his skin. He can tell that it feels just as good for Chan who's practically growling into Minho's mouth, fucking into him as though he's never felt anything better than Minho's tight, yearning heat. It might feel even _better_ for Chan in that case, Minho considers, even though Minho himself is being so consumed by pleasure he thinks he could black out any second now.

"You feel so amazing, angel. God, you feel so fucking good," Chan has his eyes squeezed shut now, thrusting so quickly into Minho that the sound of skin on skin echoes throughout the room. Minho has his head tipped back, eyes rolling back too as moans pour out of him.

"Fuck, Chan, I’m yours. I’m _yours_ ," Minho curls his little hands into fists between their chests, too close to the edge to hold on for much longer.

Chan brings a hand down to stroke Minho clumsily and hastily, stimulating him to the verge of a breakdown. When Minho comes, it's just as Chan is sinking his teeth into his neck, like he's the ripest of peaches, and grunting, "Mine."

His orgasm wracks him just as intensely as his first one, making him thrash and buck beneath Chan, gripping his shoulders with white knuckles. He cries out Chan's name through the white-hot surge through his spine and every last nerve ending, letting it all crash over him like ice water. The aftershocks begin to fade into overstimulation and Chan is about to pull out and finish himself off, but Minho pleads, _don't stop, don't stop_. He watches Chan get up on his knees, holding onto Minho's thighs. His eyes crawl over Minho's glistening, spent body, admiring the lewd way that he's laid out for him, the sultry yet exhausted look on his face.

"Let me serve you," Minho murmurs, spreading his jelly-like legs further apart. "My prince."

It awakens something in Chan that Minho thinks, distantly, he wants to see more of. He drives into Minho as hard and fast as he needs, grips his thighs tightly enough to bruise, and doesn't take his eyes off of him. There's something animalistic in his movements and his face, his growls and groans. Minho trails his stare down between their bodies and sees, to his surprise, what he assumes is the outline of Chan's cock in his tummy, moving in and out of him and stretching the thin skin with each thrust. He doesn't want to look away but he has to when it all becomes too intense, closing his eyes tightly and trying to curl into himself as the overstimulation swallows him whole. Chan reaches his peak soon enough and pumps wave after wave of come deep inside of Minho, filling him to the brim.

By the time that Chan lies down on top of Minho, still buried inside of him, Minho is seeing white behind his lids and hearing bells in his ears. He's a bit slow to kiss Chan back, satisfied and lazy with bones that feel like they're made of lead. He smiles sleepily and traces a featherlight heart into the small of Chan's back with the tip of his finger.

In the morning, Minho vaguely remembers a soft pair of lips on his temple whispering goodbye. He's still nude and very sore when he sits up, grimacing as he stretches his arms above his head, and then behind him to work out a significant kink in his back. There's a piece of parchment at the foot of the bed, and upon crawling over to it with his sheet wrapped around his shoulders, he finds it to be a note signed in Chan's pretty handwriting.

_I'm off to do knight stuff! Meet me in the courtyard when you're done with school x_

Minho smiles, exhaling a laugh as he lies down on his stomach, letting the morning light warm him through the big window. He's so happy to have him home.

Felix helps him bathe and dress this morning and, try as he may, he can't help but to notice the particular glow about Minho that he hasn't witnessed in a long time. He stands behind Minho who's seated at his vanity, brushing his hair while Minho puts on his earrings. Their eyes meet in the reflection of the mirror and Minho looks away sheepishly with the ghost of a grin on his mouth that he just can't keep away.

"It's nice to see you happy again," Felix says, setting the brush down and smoothing his small hands over Minho's coiffed hair to tame any static or flyaways. "It looks lovely on you."

Minho leaves the library after a few hours of English study and wanders to the courtyard, bidding staff and servants a good morning on the way. He encounters Chan sitting on the ledge of the fountain, surrounded by blooming peonies and roses and wading his fingertips through the crystalline water. He's in uniform, golden tassels hanging from his shoulders and harness crossing his waist and chest, all black frock and pants. Minho raises an eyebrow as he approaches him, checking him out shamelessly. He's the luckiest man in this entire kingdom.

"Hi," Minho grins, smiling wider when Chan looks up in delight and stands, bowing deeply to his prince. Minho rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest, stopping in front of him and indulging in his theatrics.

"Your highness," Chan holds a palm out and Minho rests a hand in his, giggling as Chan presses a kiss to the back of it. "Thank you for joining me."

When Chan stands upright, Minho smacks him playfully in the chest before reeling his partner into a tender kiss, melting into Chan's embrace. They share a handful more and part so that Chan can take Minho's hand again, lacing their fingers together and leading him out of the courtyard and into the castle gardens, asking Minho all about his studies today and sharing tales of the morning's knightly shenanigans.

The day is warm and sunny as ever with the year creeping toward the end of the spring. Minho and Chan amble through the garden seemingly aimlessly, discussing everything and nothing, recalling inside jokes from ages ago and debating what they'd name their kids one day if they were ever to have any. On these walks, it feels like the earth has stopped turning just so they can spend eternity basking in each other's light. Minho wishes the garden was infinite so that they could walk forever.

As Chan guides Minho toward the archway where the garden lets out into the meadow just outside of the castle, Minho takes note of a few familiar faces surveying them from around the grounds, far more than the usual few groundskeepers — Felix is among them, smiling like he knows something. Minho furrows his eyebrows but decides not to pay them any mind, following Chan out into the grass.

A well worn path through the field of wildflowers brings them to a looming blossom tree with a canopy so vast it could be a castle of its own. Chan stops here and releases Minho's hand. Minho looks at him curiously, tilting his head and grinning softly.

"Do you remember this place?"

It's been a long time since they've been out here, but there's no way that Minho could forget. They've spent so much time sitting beneath this tree throughout their lives together that it's become part of their relationship, in a way. It was a place they could run away to when life inside the castle walls became too overbearing, and they'd sneak out in the middle of the night or run away in the middle of lessons to convene about how much their lives sucked and how unfair Minho's parents were. Among memories of reading together, searching for bugs, and gossiping about their teachers, Minho recalls having their first kiss here. At seventeen and sixteen years old respectively, Chan had planted a clumsy, uncertain kiss on Minho's clumsy, uncertain lips. Everything changed that day.

"Of course I do," Minho replies. He looks up at the towering crown of white flowers above them, observing the way that they move in the wind and how a few petals break loose to drift away. He looks further down and finds the etching of their initials that Chan had carved into the wood when they were just thirteen, a crude heart around them. He's overcome with the urge to tear up at the sight of it but shakes it off, turning to Chan who — isn't there.

Minho frowns in confusion and immediately spins to see where he's gone, stopping in his tracks. Chan is behind him, kneeling on one knee in the grass. He has something in his hands, but Minho's eyes are too blurry with tears to tell what it is. He brings a quivering palm up to cover his mouth and keep a sob in.

Chan tries to speak, but he seems to stumble over what he wants to say. His own eyes are watering and he has to look away from Minho for a moment to compose himself and gather his thoughts. Minho's legs are about to give out and put him right there on the ground with him.

"I meant it, you know? Every time I told you that I loved you more than anything in this world. I've been telling you that for a long time. You know that I've always meant it, right?" Chan finally looks up at Minho again, holding his gaze although it's hard when he must be feeling more vulnerable and bashful than ever before. Minho nods slowly.

"And every time I promised you that I would always come back to you, I meant those, too. Every time I leave, you're the thing that keeps me going. Everything I do, I do because of you. I'm brave because of _you_ , Minho. I wouldn't be half the man I am today if it wasn't for you." Chan's voice shakes in the middle. He opens the thing in his hands and the sunlight catches on it; Minho blinks away the tears in his eyes and lets them fall down his cheeks, and with clear vision, he sees a ring made of silver and three large pearls. The tears start coming hotter.

"I know that... there's a lot ahead of us, and everything is so unknown but I know that this, _us_... this is certain. My love for you is certain. I'm always going to come back to you, Minho, no matter what. And I'm always going to love you more than anything in this world. I didn't... I didn't ask your father because I'm fucking terrified of him and it's going to take me a long time not to be," he chuckles as he wipes his eye with his sleeve, and Minho laughs, too. "But I asked your mother for her blessing. She wanted you to have your grandmother's ring."

If Minho cries any harder, he might cry out all of the tears in his body and it would still never convey how full his heart is. He looks away from Chan for a second so that he can breathe and spots those same familiar faces in the distance, watching in anticipation and joy that Minho can feel even from here. He laughs again, disbelieving that this is actually happening, and gazes fondly down at his lover once more.

"Are you trying to propose something to me, Sir Chan?"

The nervousness and honest-to-god fear on Chan's face dissipates and turns to pure bliss, deep dimples and crescent eyes. He takes a breath and straightens up, all the confidence of a prince settling onto his broad shoulders. He takes the ring between his fingers and holds it up in proposal. "Your Royal Highness, Prince Minho of Levanter," he bellows, making Minho laugh with his whole chest, "marry me?"

There is a fleeting thought about making him wait a full thirty seconds for an answer, or jokingly saying _no thanks_ , or some other absurdly Minho gesture in the middle of the most heartfelt moment of their entire relationship, but he's too elated to pretend that he's anything else. 

"Yes," he sniffles, nodding quickly and holding his hand out so that Chan can slide the ring on his finger. "Yes, yes, fuck yes. A million times, yes. I would marry you every day."

In the blink of an eye he's in Chan's arms, being spun around in circles until he's yelling for Chan to put him down. When his fiance sets him on his feet, Minho grabs him by the cheeks and crushes their lips together to the uproar of cheering in the garden. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> catch me on [nsfw twitter](https://twitter.com/lNNlEC0RE) for updates, sneak peeks, and drabbles~


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